A Bohemian Lifestyle

While the rest of the crew of the Bohemian played or lazed about, Asyr slept. He had been sleeping for a very, very long time.

He'd earned it, right? That business in the embassy had been nasty. Tiring. He'd made a joke to Lordura that the Republic "owes me a damn medal for all that crap." But now he slept. Were he to be asked, he'd probably say that the sleep was a better reward than the medal ever could have been.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

The alarm clock next to his bunk went off.

An arm emerged from under the sheets and grabbed the offender and hurled it. The clock hit the wall. It burst a part into a clutter of plastic and metal pieces.

At least the buzzing stopped.

Asyr stirred under his sheets, hoping to remain in bed a little while longer. The pirate had been in bed long enough though. Besides, the pangs of hunger were starting to echo through his stomach.

Never can get any damn sleep, he mulled grouchily as he sat up. Almost immediately, he regretted letting the covers fall from around him. The air within his cabin was cold. Under the sheets, it was warm. The sudden rush of cool air against his torso was jarring. He shivered and muttered something about the damn cold as he flipped the light on.

Then he saw the clock.

"Dammit, that's the fourth one. Now I'll have to get another one. Somehow." Asyr was gaining notoriety among the crew for his clock-breaking habits. None of them would lend him one, and it wasn't as if they had spare alarm clocks just laying around the ship. So he'd found himself forced to keep a lookout for alarm clocks on raids. Clocks. Of all the gorram things... He yawned and stretched, easing out of the bed and looking around the cramped room.

Flitch, the familiar he'd been given on Rodia stirred in his place on the floor, lifting up his little draconic head to stare at Asyr. "Good afternoon, Asyr."

"Hey Fliiiiiiiiiiiiiii-aaaaaah" Asyr stopped again near his clothes, taking another opportunity to stretch and yawn rather loudly. "I'm going to shower." Clothes were grabbed, the door slid open, and Asyr slipped down the hall without another word.

Flitch tilted his head to the side. He considered for a moment and then shrugged, laying his head back down.

--------------------------

A little while later, Asyr strode through the galley with a cookie and a glass of juice in either hand. He was chewing one part of the aforementioned cookie, and quite contentedly at that. Flitch rode on his shoulder.

Asyr was dressed casually, as always, and had left his long red coat in his room, leaving on only the snug black shirt he wore underneath it, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbow.

The door to the lounge slid open as he approached. As he passed through the threshold, he saw none other than Lordura leaning on the wall.

"Capitan," he said, making a slight inclination of his head toward her. He paused, letting his gaze roam over some of the others in the lounge. Dice was at the pazaak table, as always. I wonder if he has an alarm clock...

"There haven't been any major technological advances since I went to sleep, have there?" He grinned boyishly. "Thouh, on a more serious note..." The cookie was good. Very good. He should have gotten two. "You wouldn't happen to know the ah... state of our alarm clock stores would you?"

Lordura turned her head and edged her eyes at Asyr. She decided not to dignify his question with a response.

"Perhaps you should consider getting a wrist chronometer instead. It might prevent you from being late again."

Lordura grinned to herself and turned to face the room again.

Asyr was... a character. He was handsome and he knew it, and fancied himself a ladies' man. She was convinced that half his brain lay below his belt.

But the half that was in his head was smart, and his unarmed abilities were impressive. She was honest with herself -- she hadn't beaten him in that first tuffle because of strength, or skill, or talent. She'd beaten him because of experience, and that was all. If Asyr survived long enough to become experienced, he would be a force to reckon with indeed. Lordura hoped he would still be on the Bohemian then.

Besides, maybe she'd get lucky and his libido would mellow with age.

Asyr's reaction to the captain's jab was both to chuckle and wince at the same time as he popped the last of his cookie into his mouth. He could take it in stride, of course-- having thick skin was a prerequisite for running with the types he ran with--but he knew that incident was one he'd probably not live down for a little while.

Extenuating circumstances or no.

He chuckled again as he polished off the rest of his juice and idly crushed the little paper cup in his hand. "Now I see how you've gotten to where you are, cap'n," he said as he strode toward one of the low seats. Before he sat down he turned to face her and tapped the side of his temple twice with one of his forefingers. "It's with that ability to think ahead. I bet if I'd just had watch, I could have thrown it at one of the terrorist and struck him juuuuust right so that he'd fall dead on the ground." The Echani was doing his best to maintain a straight face and the tone that men often took when telling fishermen's tales, but he couldn't help the little laugh that got out. "The rest of his men--clearly terrified by such an awesome display of watch marksmanship--would throw down their arms, give themselves over to the Republic, and I would have been back in time for dinner."

Asyr paused thoughtfully.

"And takeoff."

He nodded seriously, held his straight face for a moment and then let that same boyish grin reappear as he relaxed, leaning back and throwing an arm over the back of his seat casually. "Lesson learned."

Flitch stirred on his shoulder, pushing down with one of his feet to get Asyr's attention. "Asyr, given the situation, I do not think that a throwing a watch would have made much of an impact in our efforts to get the terror-"

Asyr's laughter cut him off.

"Ah, you really aren't good with this, are ya, Flitch?"

"I..." Flitch shifted his weight sheepishly. "That was another joke, wasn't it?"

Asyr's eyes twinkled with amusement as he nodded. "Aye. Guess you weren't kidding, eh? Don't worry, though." He winked at the droid. "We'll get you used to it."

"Say Cap," he called out, continuing through his ongoing rotation of nicknames for Lordura, "don't suppose you've seen Timminy anywhere, have you?" Now he made no effort to hide his grin. Timminy Flomes, she liked to go by. Asyr liked to play with her two reasons: 1) she didn't like being around people that much, and 2) she was a female. It was always amusing.

"Feels like I haven't seen her in ages."

Lordura pushed her brows together and nodded in a sagely manner. "Yes, I knew you would catch on eventually."

The captain eyed the little mechanical creature, having only let it on board after making it abundantly clear that any damage or trouble it caused would be directly the responsibility of Asyr. She was not a particularly strict captain -- she believed the consequences of culpability were often punishment enough, and it spared her the energy of having to ride everyone. She didn't know how some leaders kept up their laundry list of minuscule peculiarities.

"You know," she said, after the comments of the puzzled contraption, "Your new companion might find it easier to learn what a joke was if half of yours were actually funny."

She tilted her head at Asyr's next inquiry, her version of rolling her eyes, as no one else would really be able to tell if she had been rolling her eyes.

"Tim's in her quarters, working on some new project."

That, in fact, was a lie. Timminy Flomes was on the bridge, but she wasn't about to indulge the man's lustful games. Lordura appreciated the girl's skill with technology, and she did not need her best hacker's brain muddled. Even so, Timminy was a peculiar one, and she couldn't blame Asyr for being amused. Ironically, it was her insistence that she always be called 'Timminy Flomes', exactly, that spawned the crew into giving her so many nick-names when she wasn't around.

She considered telling Asyr that Timminy had been avoiding him, but she suspected that would only encourage the man.

Lordura's eyes roamed the room again, her customary gaze checking in on each. Dice had found a new partner for Pazaak.

If Asyr wanted to run off in search of his favorite socially challenged victim, then he was no longer bound by the rules of conversation.

What am I doing here?

Ocelot really couldn't figure out the answer. At one point he was saving a girl who had been shot on the street, and suddenly he had become part of a pirate crew. He was getting older and the galaxy seemed to be moving much faster than it used to. On top of that the crew was rather...enthusiastic. They really were nothing like the smuggling crew he used to run, but maybe that was why he was interested.

He studied the revolver that lay on the desk before him, it was the truest friend he had ever had. Ocelot had learned to use it long ago from his father, and was quite efficient with it. That being said, he tried to avoid killing if it wasn't necessary. It was a messy business and he wasn't so heartless that he would kill someone that didn't deserve it. He had also learned not to rely on weapons entirely either, and it made him a rather deadly smuggler.

Of course he wasn't really smuggling anymore, he was a pirate. He had a certain distaste for the pirates he had encountered but this crew seemed different. The older man stood up, and placed the revolver back in his shoulder holster. He wasn't expecting any trouble but it was a comfort knowing it was there. Ocelot decided to head toward the galley and grab something to eat. If he was lucky, no one would be around. He was a man who tended to speak only when necessary, or efficiently as he saw it.

The smuggler turned pirate headed through the lounge which was bustling with activity but continued on. Most of the crew didn't really pay much attention to him because he didn't really pay much attention to them. Unfortunately for him standing at the door to the galley was Lordura and a man who he believed was called Asyr. He got the feeling that he still wasn't entirely trusted yet, and that was fine with him. This woman would have to be a complete novice to be so trusting right off the bat, and everything he saw so far indicated that she was no amateur.

"Captain" He said stopping short of the two "Asyr" stated Ocelot with a nod to each of them.

"I hope both of you are doing well?" He continued on in a half statement, half question. Ocelot was somewhat awkward in these situations. He wasn't good at idle talk and he sure as hell wasn't good at starting it.

Asyr snickered at Lordura's jab. "Now that was entirely uncalled for, Cap'n." His smiles said he wasn't too particularly bothered by it. "I once knew a man named Jim. Jim loved his jokes--would go damn near crazy if you told him they weren't funny."

Asyr stuck his hand into one of the pockets on his pants. When it came out, it held a pack of cigarras and a lighter. "Aren't you glad I'm not him? 'Course, he got his face smashed in in a cantina. Turns out flying off the handle at a Trandoshan ain't the brightest thing to do, y'see. Poor Jim died teaching the rest of us a lesson."

The cigarras were held within small metal container. It was solid, heavier than it looked and had an emblem of some wealthy Corellian family emblazoned in gold on its smooth silver surface. Asyr found it on a raid a few months back. He quite liked it. He flipped a little latch open with a practiced ease and the top swung up, revealing the cigs that waited within. "Not sure where I was going with that... Ah well. Probably an Aesop about me getting my face punched in." Nimble fingers danced over the tops of the cigarras for a moment and then he plucked one out.

The container clacked shut once more. Asyr glanced up to Lordura as he lit his cig and put the lighter away. "In her room, you say?" He took a long, deep draught before he exhaled easily, pushing out small cloud of thin white smoke. "I might have to go see her in a bit, then."

I wonder what games I'll play with her this time...

He grinned. She was so much fun to play with.

Before he could say anything else, he heard the sound of the door sliding open and another person entering the lounge. He glanced up as he blew more smoke from his mouth and lifted a snowy brow.

It was one of the newcomers. Ocelot, or something like that.

Asyr offered a lazy wave with the hand hold his cig, leaving an thin line of smoke hanging in the air.

"Ocelot, right?" he asked casually as he observed the man. They'd found him not too long ago, along with some girl. Most of the crew wasn't sure what to make of them yet, from what Asyr could tell. He hadn't come to any concrete conclusions about the man yet either. Well, he was reaching one.

He's about as stiff as a damn door.

"I'm doin' fine. Though..." Asyr paused for a moment, tapping a forefinger on his chin thoughtfully. There was a bit of fuzz growing on it. He'd have to shave soon. "I don't suppose you'd have a clock you wouldn't mind giving away, would you?"

Lordura had heard someone approaching the galley door, and wondered to herself who it was. Heavy footsteps, but not so heavy... Marien again, maybe?

She was proven wrong as none other than Ocelot appeared around the corner. Ah well, it wasn't really her 'thing', as some said. Neither was reading faces, but she could have sworn she saw the faintest flicker of dread on the man's face as he found himself plunked squarely in the middle of a social situation that could not be ignored.

Lordura found herself much more at ease interpreting and analyzing actions. This is part of what had earned her the rank of captain, and the main reason why she had approached this man about joining the crew.

It seemed as if he would be the sort embittered to all the world, rather antisocial. Instead, he had taken in an injured girl without taking advantage of her, and without any evidence of plans to manipulate her. She wondered what other surprises he might hold, and it was this promise that had gotten him onto the ship.

Granted, that did not mean he had earned her whole respect. Lordura was wary, oh so wary, and her eye was keenly attuned to actions that would either water the seed of approval, or choke it at the root.

His words were stiff and forced, his greeting merely procedural. Asyr inquired about a clock, which left Lordura to shake her head in mildest exasperation.

"Here's a question for a question," she said, "One that actually demands more than a rote response, unlike yours." She tilted her head. "How does a man like you, end up on a planet like Empress Teta, with a stony-faced woman mechanic like that Sierra of yours?"

Lordura didn't really expect a full answer. In fact, she really didn't expect much of anything specific, as the question was, without cloud, open-ended. A man's willingness to talk about his past could reveal a lot about him, but words were cheap, and it took a great deal of them to speak for an action. She was less concerned with the answer, and more with the manner in which it came about. Hardly a judgement, but another half-page in her mental dossier.

Besides, she was an opportunist -- as were all good pirates. She took opportunities where they presented themselves.

She un-crossed her arms and put them behind her back, against the cool metal of the wall. A less-defensive, more confident posture. She was, after all, a captain less of words than of kinetics.

He could tell that they had noticed his slight discomfort at the current situation but they made nothing of it. Ocelot was pretty good at keep his expression in check, it kept him alive. A slight flicker of expression during a deal could tell you alot about what the person was planning. Then again he wasn't perfect, and he was getting old. The burden of command wasn't on him anymore, it was the woman who stood before him.

"I'm afraid to say that I don't have an extra clock" was Ocelot's reply to Asyr.

The Echani looked like he was young enough to be Ocelot's son. He seemed to be the frivolous types. The older mercenary had dealt with such types and they could be quite deceiving. They seemed careless and nonchalant but that did well to hide their true skills. He would be careful around this one. It was then that Lordura followed with her question, and Ocelot couldn't say he was surprised. He knew he was going to have to explain himself eventually might as well be now.

"Empress Teta" He began in his gruff voice "I have some old contacts there and was looking for some work. Not many people are willing to do smuggling runs that deep in the Core but the pay was good. Not to mention if you don't keep working at my age, you lose your edge too fast"

He paused for a moment, considering on how to proceed. Even as he did so, he resisted the urge to bring his hand over his clouded right eye. Ocelot had been careless once and it had cost him an eye, he couldn't afford to get careless again. He was getting older but he wasn't ready to retire just yet.

"As for the girl...well I wasn't just gonna leave her dying." He had seen his fair share of abused and dead girls, especially on his last job. The smuggler wasn't going to leave one dying on the street after what he had seen. "Either way, you and I both know she isn't exactly...normal..."

Ocelot left his last words hanging in the air. He had said enough on the matter, more than he usually would.

Lordura listened with a keen ear, and waited a moment after he had concluded to speak.

"Fair answer," she said, more thoughtfully than dismissively. He was neither narcissistic nor self-important, this was clear. His personality was hardly colorful, but, not without irony, Lordura found that perfectly acceptable. Perhaps more of his past would reveal itself in time, perhaps not -- the past was not nearly so important to her as the present.

And in the present, she acted on what was not an impulse, but what was rather a well thought-out strategy, simply undeclared and unexplained. She bent and removed a dagger from her boot, paused, and examined it.

Then, stating "Catch," she tossed the knife at the man, but the word was a poor warning, as the knife was already in the air when she said it.

Her method, though odd, had a simple motivation behind it. This man had a clouded eye, and she needed to know if his depth perception and ability to track objects suffered for it. Worse case, he cut his hand, best, he caught it deftly. He was hardly three feet away, so the knife didn't have much speed, but his reaction would have to be quick.

How he reacted to being so tested would also reveal his character. The Captain had a way of searching for the information she wanted, without warning, in a way that didn't always make sense until hindsight, but fit her purposes just fine.

"That's too bad then," Asyr said with a light snap of his fingers. Not to say that he'd truly been expecting to get a clock from the old man--things like getting alarm clocks were seldom that easy--but it hadn't hurt to hope. Just means I'll have to wrangle somebody out of one. Dice came into view again as Asyr briefly shifted his gaze to him. If all else fails... Lordura's evident annoyance with him got only an amused half-smile.

He shook his head and snapped his focus back to Ocelot. It seemed Lordura was questioning him, as she tended to do with new members of the crew. Asyr couldn't blame her; none of them really knew much, if anything about the man. Though he wasn't sure if Ocelot would be willing to divulge much, new as he was. Perhaps that wasn't Lordura's main goal though. He merely shrugged to himself and listened.

Asyr took another breath through the cigarra as Ocelot spoke to Lordura. Flitch scampered down from his shoulder and onto a nearby table, his claws clattering lightly on its surface until he settled down on his haunches.

Interesting, he thought when Ocelot had had his say. A shade of his character was revealed, perhaps, but there was probably more to the old smuggler. Asyr grunted to himself and blew more smoke from his cig. There always is.

Lordura seemed to find his response acceptable enough. Asyr glanced at her, wondering what was going through her head. You never could tell...

... as was proven when she suddenly pulled a dagger from her boot and threw it at Ocelot. Asyr had a little bit more warning than Ocelot might have, being skilled with reading movements as he was, but it was still surprising.

And amusing.

"Don't worry," he said after the action had been completed, "she throws things at me too." Another puff of smoke eased forth. "But she might get to actually like you after a while, Stranger." He flashed a grin at Lordura. "If only I could be so lucky."

He paused for a moment, just realizing he'd called Ocelot 'stranger.' Odd. He knew the man's name. He shrugged; probably just meant Ocelot would be yet another on the crew who got a nickname from him.

Whether he liked it or not.

Ocelot wasn't exactly sure how his explanation was going to be taken, but apparently it was satisfactory. If it hadn't been, well luckily things didn't get that far. The older mercenary watched quietly as the captain bent down and grabbed a dagger from her boot. A number of possible options ran through Ocelot's mind but at the end he chose to remain still. She didn't seem like she was ready to attack him, but there was a rather vicious blade strapped to his back that would respond if he was wrong.

"Catch" was all he heard as she tossed the knife at him.

He had two real options at the moment on how to deal with the current situation. Well three, if he was feeling really stupid. Ocelot could A. Grab the dagger. B. Deflect the dagger with his own blade or C.Pull out his revolver and kill as many as he possibly could. Option C wasn't really something he was inclined to do, so he decided to go with option A.

The former smuggler stepped forward, extended his right hand and caught the dagger by its hilt. The blade spun in his hand so now he held the dagger by the metal rather than the hilt. Ocelot extended his hand and offered the dagger hilt first towards his new captain. He had been a little tense there for a moment, but his face betrayed nothing. If the the same thing had happened four years ago, he could have performed the maneuver with much more ease.

Ocelot wasn't naive, and he clearly understood he was being tested. Indeed, he would have done things similar to this to test his new crew. He had lost the ability to use his right eye a little more than two years ago. Over those two years he had trained hard to make sure that he wasn't at a significant disadvantage. Of course two eyes were better than one, but he had still trained for many years and wasn't going to let an eye stop him from doing his job.

"I'm used to it" said Ocelot in his usual gruff tone in reply to Asyr.

"Now unless there is anything else captain...?" continued Ocelot "I would like to get something to eat....and maybe a drink"

Lordura took the hilt of her blade, her eyes assessing first it, then the man. Anyone who knew her well would have seen the shadow of a smile.

She chuckled at Asyr's quip this time. It was good to see she'd established a proper reputation as Captain. 'Stranger'? It hadn't taken long for him to find a nickname for the man.

"Do you have some strong aversion to using peoples' given names?" She raised her eyebrows at Asyr.

"Now unless there is anything else captain...?" Ocelot said, "I would like to get something to eat... and maybe a drink."

Lordura bent again to return the dagger to her boot, and in the process, glanced at the chronometer on her wrist.

"I think I'll join you," she said, straightening, "It's about that time of day anyway."

She edged her way past Ocelot and stepped into the galley, taking a quick appraisal of the room. A few sat around the long table, a few clusters of conversation. Most of them had already decided it was lunch time, and the smell of reconstituted foot created a familiar atmosphere.

She strode across the galley. A few spines straightened at the Captain's footfall, but most were at ease with the woman. Smiles and winks were her version of fanfare.

Lordura came to stand in front of the cabinet in which the food was stored. She faced the familiar grid of small brown boxes, and skimmed them with her fingertips.

Something made her sigh. "When will Leary figure out that no one ever eats the Gizka..."

Her fingers quickly settled on a particular label, and she extracted its corresponding box.

"Best food money can buy," she reported to Ocelot, stepping back from the cabinet, lunch in-hand, "That has a shelf-life of five years, doesn't attract mites, and feeds a three hundred pound man in less than four servings."

She moved towards the reconstitution chamber at the adjacent corner. "As you can see, we accept only the best and most opulent of galactic cuisine."

Somehow, the greyish-green mush that emerged from the chamber, smelling strongly of vinegar, which was supposed to be 'Legume and Starch Casserole' made her wonder if the irony was too sober to be funny.

It seemed that the smuggler had managed to pass the captain's test, well atleast this first one. He didn't he would be gaining her trust that easily but it was a start. Ocelot wasn't all that surprised to find out he wasn't the only one who was the target of Asyr's nicknames. He had never really seen what was wrong with using someones name but he just shrugged it off. Being called 'stranger' didn't really make any sort of difference to his day to day life.

Ocelot followed Lordura into the galley and noted the few crew members that were already there. They didn't seem to pay him much attention and thus he reciprocated, things were always easier that way. He then made his way to one of the cupboards and didn't really put much thought into what he had taken. He wasn't a picky eater, and being a smuggler had never exactly been fine cuisine. As the captain began to describe the food, Ocelot got the feeling that maybe just maybe she was being sarcastic.

The middle aged man found himself a seat and cracked open his meal. There was a rather pungent smell from it, but he just shrugged. Food was food, all one needed was to remember that they needed it to survive.

"So captain" began Ocelot as he reached into his coat and pulled out a flask. "How did you get into the business?" asked the smuggler as casually as his demeanor allowed.

He took a healthy swig of whiskey from his flask and placed it on the table. Ocelot wasn't sure if he would get an answer or not but it seemed like a good place to start. It tended to be a common topic among fringers like himself. Then again, many of us didn't have fairy tale beginnings mused Ocelot, a thought which warranted another swig.

Sierra awoke in a small dark room. Where was she? Oh yes, she remembered. The ship. Her memory of that time was hazy, and she couldn't recall who owned the ship or what type of ship it was. Her head still hurt and her shoulder was still wrapped in bandages. She was healing quickly but it would be last a few days, if not a week, before her body would regain full functionality.

She yawned and looked around the place. The room was small and plain, walls bare and unadorned. Her belt hung on a hook protruding from the wall, along with her tools that hung in various small belt pouches. Hydrospanner, portable cutter, everything one would expect a competent mechanic to have on hand, as well as a pair of smooth metal batons. She wondered if whoever had brought her here at found out about their true function. At the press of a hidden button, that baton could suddenly extend a leaf-shaped blade and telescope outwards into a deadly six-foot long spear. Her signature weapon from...

From where?

She couldn't remember where she had actually gotten the weapons, only that she had had them for a very very long time. Oh well, it didn't matter. She was awake now, so there was no sense in staying in the dark little room. Her stomach growled loudly as if trying to urge her to go outside and search for food. She put on her belt, as well as her jacket that hung on another hook by the door, and got up out of the bed. A brief lightheadedness causes her to stumble a bit as she made her way out of the room. She really needed to find something to eat.

A sweet, innocent smile flowered on Asyr's face at Lordura's comment. The kind of smile that said 'why Captain, I don't know what you could possibly mean by that.' Of course he knew exactly what she was talking about, and it had always been a source of amusement for him; sometimes the reactions people gave to his nicknames proved to be all the reward he needed for doing so. Especially with some of the things I've called her... He suppressed a snicker. Teasing Lordura was an exercise in precision. Even if she was friendly to the crew (for the most part), there were still limits. Crossing those limits led to trouble, as he'd found out before.

Not that that'd stopped him. He just stepped more cautiously these days.

"Well," he said when Lordura and Ocelot moved to head to find some food, "three's a charm, so I'll tag along. I'm hungry anyway. Come on, Flitch."

The droid, who'd become engrossed in watching Dice play (and lose) yet another game, jerked at Asyr's call and scampered along the floor after the trio.

Asyr was the last of the three in their little procession to the food, trailing smoke from his cigarra as he strolled easily behind Ocelot.

He was of two minds about the food on the Bohemian. On the one hand, it was stuff he'd probably never even consider touching were he still living in the fairly opulent lifestyle he came from. On the other, years of eating similar or worse had bred a sort of appreciation for it. It wasn't that bad, really. Tastes better than it smells. And it was filling enough.

"Best food money can buy," Lordura said to Ocelot.

Asyr snorted a laugh. "Yeah, we steal all of our best food on raids, y'see." He was only half-kidding. At least as far as he was concerned--he'd found some good stuff on other ships in the past.

He grabbed his own lunch and settled down at a table to eat, moving his plate aside when Flitch suddenly jumped up and settled down next to him. "Speaking of raids, Captain..." It was the beginning of a question he'd asked enough times that she didn't need to hear the end of it. Rather, it only ended with the lifting of a snowy brow.

"So Captain," Ocelot said, "How did you get into the business?"

Lordura acknowledged the question with a half-grin. She took another moment to examine her lunch, then looked up at Ocelot.

"Prison," she said, matter-of-factly. "Unfortunately, I couldn't escape before I served my time. I think my arresting officer would be proud, though, seeing as I've picked up such an honest profession." She swirled the cantina in her hand. This was one of the many similarities Lordura bore to her predecessor -- they both knew how to spin a good story.

"I was approached, much as you were," she said, inclining her head and gesturing with the cantina. "And as Asyr was and Dice was, and everyone else on this crew. Back then, there was a Gen'Dai on the crew. Westley. Everyone had to kill him before they were considered, and most of the crew went on doing so whenever they needed practice. Didn't have anything but a rusty pipe, but sometimes, that's all you need.

"I was hardly part of the crew. I think Buck was the only one who'd look me in the eye for the first month... but I persevered, as all real pirates do." Her tone was lightly ironic. "What was it... ten months later, I ended up trapped in the service hall of freighter during a raid. Mind you," she gestured with the cantina again, "I'd done everything right. Seemed like the only job I'd been able to hold down for any length of time was inmate. But then I ended up on the receiving end of a rescue operation, and what do you know but, I'm part of the crew.

"The Bohemian was good to me. Gave me a job, and credits, and something better than family." Her expression was unusually soft, almost affectionate. Marien would have understood the significance of that statement, but she knew things few others did.

"And when a ship is good to you, you treat her well back. 'bout eight years ago, I became her captain. And it seems I've done an alright job, as my crew hasn't mutinied yet. And we have an Espresso machine. Not many pirates can say that."

There was a great deal more to Lordura's life than that, but she was far more restrained than one might guess. Anything she shared about herself was more of a press release than an offering, but when one was a pirate, certain precautions had to be taken. And, after a while, they became second nature.

"Which brings us to the present. Raids." She acknowledged Asyr, but first attended to the fact that the whole reason she was in the galley was to eat.

"With the information on Sark's shipments," it was a veiled thanks to the organizer-of-contacts, "We ought to be able to hit him a few quadrants down of the Hydian Way. There are several semi-industrial planets not far from there that will pay quite significantly for a top-of-the-line droid. Next month, the trading routes really get bustling for the Republic's holiday season, which of course means we won't be hitting as many merchants as we will other pirates. Keep your ears open for anyone talking of making a major raid."

Lordura knew that plucking an apple from a basket was much easier than climbing the tree, and there was no better ship to hit than a pirate's, fat with loot.

Of course, she knew she wasn't the only one who'd reached that conclusion, which gave her a bit of justified paranoia.

"I liked the info you got from that fellow on Nessem. Might see if we can swing through there while we're on the Hydian way... All the same, see if you can thicken that tie."

Then, Lordura's first priority became listening, her second attending to her lunch.

Ocelot listened with interest as Lordura began to tell her story, his attention easily drawn away from the current meal. Her story wasn't all that unfamiliar though it had its share of differences. There was one aspect of her story that truly caught Ocelot's attention. The mention of a Gen'dai. Few things surprised the old smuggler these days but he certainly hadn't expected to hear the name 'Gen'dai' when he joined this crew.

Few people had even heard of a Gen'dai, even fewer had met one or rather were aware of the fact that they had. They were a rare race, virtually impossible to kill. It made them rather difficult opponents but incredibly reliable allies. Ocelot just happened to know a Gen'dai himself, an especially deadly one at that. His mind traveled back to when he had last seen Jorgun, and was pretty sure that the man had saved his life. The last few jobs for the Red October had been a little too exciting for him.

No doubt Ocelot would see his old friend at some unforeseen location eight years from now. His mind turned back to the others as Asyr raised an important point. The smuggler understood he still had to earn his spot on the crew but even was slightly curious as to what their next job was going to be. It felt slightly off not being in charge of his own crew but at the same time it was a relief. Command was a heavy burden, even for a smuggler. Lordura seemed quite up to the challenge so Ocelot wasn't particularly worried about anything.

He listened carefully as the captain began to explain their possible targets. The name Sark seemed to be familiar but he couldn't quite place it at the moment. Ocelot had done a few raids in his time but his primary trade was smuggling so he still hadn't exactly waded into deep water just yet. No doubt this first raid was going to be a little touch and go considering all the new members that had joined the crew.

Ocelot sat back, he would listen for now until he input was needed. It seemed that Asyr had also gathered some information of his own for another possible job. Until he could gain a better understanding on what that was, he couldn't really provide anything of use. He wasn't a man of many words anyways, so silence suited him just fine.

As Lordura began to tell the tale of how she came to be where she was today, Asyr listened. The story was one he'd heard before, but there was something about it that he always enjoyed hearing. Maybe it was because he knew Lordura's story wasn't so different from his own. Some of the twists and turns differed, but in the end, they had their share of similarities. All of us do, I'd wager, he though, wolfing down some of the slop that served as food. And that makes us all a family.

A big, thieving, criminal-filled, dysfunctional family.

Well the Bohemian family was much better than the one he'd grown up in. There wasn't anything in the Galaxy he'd trade to go back to Eshan, even if he hadn't been made an exile.

"Aye, Stranger," he piped up when Lordura finished her story, "the ship's a good place. Good crew, good captain." For a moment he looked to Lordura, flashing one of his winning grins at her. "And I'm not just sayin' as insurance for the next time I piss you off. Not entirely, anyway.

"But this is a good place," he went on, looking back to Ocelot. "I've been on good ships before, been on bad, and you won't find many that are better than the one you're on."

Asyr shrugged slightly when he'd finished with his say and stood to stride back over to the cabinets. As Lordura turned her attention to the subject of raids, he dug around in the cabinets, searching for something to drink. There were many things available, of course, ranging from water to juices to an array of alcohol, but he was looking for something in particular...

"Ah yeah, the fellow on Nessem." Asyr was crouched and his voice was muffled, what with his head in one of the low cabinets and all, but he spoke to let Lordura know he was listening. "Nice fellow. Think we might be able to get a few more jobs out of 'im in the future." That was all contingent on them pulling this next raid off, but Asyr had faith in the crew. It wasn't like they were being sent to rob the Republic of one of its dreadnoughts. That would just be silly. Silly and suicidal. Not combination any of them would like, if Asyr knew the crew even half as well as he thought he did.

"Sounds like a plan," he said when Lordura finished. He withdrew his head from the cabinet, only to sidle to the next one and continue his search. This particular beverage was proving to be much harder to find than he'd thought it would be, and he knew they had some; he'd made it crystal clear to Jaleqe that the last Morellian ale was his. Surely he hadn't been betrayed. Asyr could deal with pranks and kidding, but taking a man's ale was something else entirely, nearly on the level of sleeping with his wife.

Not that Asyr would know anything about sleeping with other men's wives. He cleared his throat. Not at all.

"Hey, Cap'n, you don't know if anyone took th- Oh! There it is! Someone just put the damn thing all the way in the back, but I found it. Just got- Ow!" As he was coming out of the cabinet, he hit the back of his head on the top of it. His exclamation was followed by a short stream of curses, but when he emerged he still held his bottle victoriously.

"Anyway, back to business." He popped the top from the bottle and smoothly tossed it into the garbage receptacle as he walked back to his seat, making a point to ignore the fact that he'd hit the cabinet with his head. "I'll be getting in touch with our Sark friend again soon. If we're lucky, he might be able to get us some good info. Shipping manifests, catalogues..." Asyr's grin was at once a mix of pride and greed, with just a touch of malevolence. "The good stuff. It's amazing what a disgruntled former employee will tell you, if you know how to ask. I'll have to keep buttering him up and see what he wants out of it though, cause there's no way in hell he's setting this up without having something in mind for himself."

With his meal finished, Asyr pushed the plate out of his way and leaned back lazily in his chair, throwing the arm with his ale over the back of it as he thought. "Oh yeah, and the info for it's back in my room, but here's the word on what we've got from that fellow on Nessem. The Bimm. Says he might have a shipment of spice, among other things, to get from some buddies of his on Nar Shadaa. Got some people on Balmorra that want it, apparently. Haven't looked into too much since I just got it, but," he raised the bottle with a grin and took a drink from it, "it's another possibility."